How a Ceramic Cat Became a Prized Possession

Bequeathed to her by her grandmother, this cat is one of Zackary Drucker's most prized possessions.CreditCreditZackary Drucker

As told to Emily Spivack

Jan. 5, 2016

In this series for T, the writer and author of “Worn Stories,” Emily Spivack, interviews creative types about their most prized possessions.

Zackary Drucker is a Los Angeles-based artist and co-producer for the Amazon original series “Transparent,” nominated for three Golden Globe awards, including Best Television Series, Musical or Comedy. Here, she recounts the significance behind a ceramic cat from her childhood in Syracuse, N.Y., that temporarily takes the place of an actual, living pet.

My grandmother lived a mile away from me growing up in Syracuse. She would just drop by, pop in the back door, ask me what I had eaten for lunch, and if I had any friends. She was the archetypal overbearing Jewish grandmother. She grew up on Eastern Parkway in Crown Heights, Brooklyn — the daughter of immigrants, a child of the Great Depression. When I’m reading scripts for “Transparent,” every time there’s a line from Shelly, Judith Light’s character, I always imagine my grandmother. They had the same style of peppering Yiddish into whatever they were saying.

Since my grandmother lived nearby, I spent a lot of time at her house. I have really early memories of this cat she had on the landing at the top of her stairs. It always sparked excitement for me, even as a toddler.

I was especially close to my grandmother. Perhaps it was because I was one of the youngest grandchildren or because I was a particularly sensitive child. Before I could drive, she would give me rides to places. This one time she came by to pick me up for a doctor’s appointment. I was a young teenager who was beginning to experiment and I had this group of freewheeling friends. We had been running around in the rain in our underwear. I had totally forgotten about the doctor’s appointment and she walked right into my house like she always did. She saw a handful of teenagers in their underwear and she was outraged. She couldn’t stop talking about how lousy my friends were and that she had high blood pressure — What was I trying to do? Trying to kill her? — and then she relented and said, “I’m not going to tell your parents about this because it’ll sound much worse than it was. I’m sure I’m just overreacting.” And for years, we would joke about it privately. She never told anyone about it and neither did I.

When my grandmother got older, she encouraged all of her children and grandchildren to put our names on the bottom of whatever we wanted of hers. At the time I thought it was really morose and resisted putting my name on anything. Except for the ceramic cat. All I really wanted was that cat. So she got out the masking tape and Sharpie pen and put my name on it.

My grandmother died in 2011, and my grandfather died nine months later. My parents and aunts and uncles sorted through their house and allocated everything to different family members. They came across the cat with my name on it and my mother shipped it to me in California. It actually broke when it was shipped — the whole back half cracked off. I just glued it right back together.

Of all the objects in my home, it’s one of the only things from my childhood. I think of it as a kind of anchor — a fractured anchor. And it’s also a surrogate for the cat I’d like to have some day. I’ve had cats as pets all my life, but right now, because I travel so much, having a pet would be unfair to the animal. I’m not worried about becoming a cat lady but I’ll definitely have cats in my house again. For now, my grandmother’s ceramic cat sits next to the front door and it’s like she greets me when I’m coming and going.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

Correction:Jan. 5, 2016

An earlier version of this post and the headline with it misidentified the material the cat figure was made of. It was ceramic, not porcelain.

The 73rd Golden Globe Awards will be broadcast live this Sunday, Jan. 10, on NBC.